Winona [18+]

chapter twelve

warning | mature content

JULY 01, 1985

WINONA D'ALIA

Stay, Salvatore.

Winona stood on her toes and kissed Salvatore. It was his final undoing. Any restrain that he had was long gone. Any fight that he put up was feeble. His paintbrush clattered on the floor as she moved her lips sensually against his own, taking his trembling hands in hers and placing them on her waist.

The artist violently ripped away the red sheets she clung onto, leaving her bare to his touch. Goosebumps scattered across her skin, and his hands soothed their wake. He was like a starved man, feral, and desperate to be fed.

She expected him to be rough, and even welcomed it. After all, she had been poking and prodding at the bear for far too long.

Salvatore held the back of her neck, consuming her, and his tongue slipped between her lips. As he traced wicked patterns into her flesh, the thrill of it all forced the air out of her. It was as if he took all her breath and replaced it with his own, writing his name in her bloodstream.

He trekked toward her bed, never once breaking their kiss until Winona succumbed to gravity. Her mattress creaked under her weight, and she had little time to consider how vulnerable she was. She lay before him like a sacrifice; an offering. There was something intensely erotic about her nudity while he stood fully clothed. It certainly made her hyper-aware of his gaze, knowing that he was drinking in every inch of her.

"Please touch me."

The man before her was unrecognizable, lust and desire overtaking his senses. Under his stare, she had become a slick mess. Her thighs squeezed together to offer some relief throughout the night as he painted her, but it wasn't enough. Salvatore dug his fingers into her cheek, bringing his mouth close to hers. Never once did his gaze waver.

"I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to take it. You'll take whatever I give you."

Winona blinked at his words and propped herself onto her elbows, chasing after another kiss. She had been accustomed to giving and was taught to feel ashamed to take. Her past rendezvous often ended with disappointment as the men she invited into her bed took what they desired and left.

"Then, I want all of you," she tested the waters. "No reservations. No holding back."

How much was he willing to give?

The familiar sky blue in his eyes was long gone, replaced by the hue of dark and violent ocean waves. Anticipation wreaked havoc in her mind and heart as he kneeled before her, providing a definite answer to her question.

Gripping her ankles firmly, Salvatore drew her closer to the edge of the bed and parted her legs. Winona pressed her heels into his back while he teased her with open-mouthed kisses between her thighs. She could only watch his adoration, desperate for him to fulfill his promises of pleasure.

"Please..."

Salvatore caved to the sound of her voice, and lowered his face between her legs. As his mouth worked expertly on her core, Winona gripped the sheets underneath her to brace herself. Yes, his tongue was wicked and his touch was corruption. Her gasps turned into desperate moans as he devoured her, all while pushing his fingers in and out of her entrance.